


Hangover

by Kotik



Series: Adult Season Three [5]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, M/M, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 10:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kotik/pseuds/Kotik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Captain endangers his career during a debriefing, changes are coming to Enterprise on all fronts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hangover

### Hangover

“I believe you are in excellent health, Commander.  And would you tell Ensign Sato that I expect her to come to me tomorrow for the extraction of her tissue samples?” the doctor continued. “I believe you are aware of her plans?”

“ _You_ will do the boob job on Hoshi?” Trip asked back, looking at Phlox slack-jawed.

The doctor sat down on the biobed across from him.

“If that is what you call it; yes, I will perform the procedure. Not only will this spare her the prohibitive costs; with all due respect to the human surgeons, Denobulans have three centuries of experience with reconstructive surgery.”

“If you ask me it wouldn’t be needed in the first place.”

“Ensign Sato is well aware that none of her friends thinks her bust is inferior. The problem is, _she_ does think so. I would not have agreed to this procedure if I wasn’t convinced that it will have a profoundly positive effect on her self-confidence.”

“Is it dangerous?” he asked.

“Not at all Commander; I will extract mammary tissue from the Ensign and artificial growth will be stimulated in these containers,” the doctor explained, pointing to two elliptical glass containers. “Once enough tissue has been grafted, it will be transplanted using a minimally invasive surgical procedure.”

“That’s quite a lot ,” he noted.

“Indeed, I believe the final result will be comparable in size to your mate.”

“You’re not doing this the first time, are you?” Trip asked. “Considering that you just happen to have the necessary containers aboard the ship?”

“Every Denobulan doctor has a pair of those,” Phlox replied, his smile gone again. “Breast tumors are a very common disease on Denobula and as a result the corresponding reconstructive surgery after the necessary amputation is something that every surgeon worth his salary has done countless times.”

“Sorry to hear that, Phlox” Trip replied honestly.

=/\=

Maxwell found it hard to keep up with a furious looking captain. Learning that – of all people – Hieram Black would be the chairman of the debriefing could do that to a man.

“Jon, you can’t go in there like that. Stop and calm yourself down!” the Admiral pleaded, but his advice was not heard.

Captain Jonathan Archer seemed determined to go down fighting – and go down he would. Everybody in Starfleet Command knew that Hieram Black had a chip on his shoulder the size of Jupiter. Although he had eventually made it to Admiral, Black had never gotten over the fact that Henry Archer’s engine design was chosen over his own and since Archer was dead, he took it out on his son. This could only end in trouble and by the look of it the Captain was just in the right mood for it.

The Captain stopped abruptly and poked his finger into Maxwell’s chest as he spoke – quite painfully, in fact.

“Max, I’ve just brought a crew home that barely held together in the end. I had to run roughshod over every Starfleet regulation to keep them from staging a mutiny and I think Black knew that from the start. He _wanted_ me to fail. But trust me, when we come back out of that room, I am unemployed or Black’s ass-backward rules are history. Now which side are you on?”

“If you would stop trying to poke holes into my rib cage I could think of ways to plead your case and we need some pretty good ideas, Jon.”

=/\=

 “I don’t know where to begin, Captain,” Black started shuffling a lot of PADDs. “You came back with one crew member more than you had when you sailed out, your science officer was almost recalled twice in dishonor. You made enemies of Suliban, Klingons, Tandarans, Nausicaans. And this one – how interesting – ten of your officers copulated publicly, ostensibly to satisfy the traditions of an alien planet. There are no less than twenty reports from your security department about arresting inebriated members of your crew.

“What kind of ship are you running Archer?” the Admiral screamed after reading his list.

“If you would give me the chance to answer, _Herr Freisler_?”

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Maxwell bury his face in his palms. Granted, addressing Black by the name of a Nazi era corrupt judge was perhaps not the brightest idea and the most unprofessional thing he’d ever done, apart from stealing an NX prototype of course, but this was exactly how this tribunal felt like – the ridiculous show trials shown in historic news reels. Help came in the form of an unexpected ally.

“Admiral, unless I have been given the wrong documents, the report of the away mission to Maateria appears to be classified. Your divulging of details appears to be a breach of protocol. The information pertaining that mission should not be a matter of discussion.”

He’d never thought he’ll ever think that, but thank god for Soval. The Vulcan Ambassador was one of the three ‘judges’ and by the look of it at least one of them was not determined to see him go down in flames. But considering that T’Pol had been one of the ten officers in question, it could well be that he was just trying to protect a fellow Vulcan, so he didn’t quite get his hope of a reformed Soval up yet.

The unknown bureaucrat from the Earth Government in the third seat hadn’t made much more than breathing noises so far.

“According to the medical logs four thousand doses of contraceptive medication have been used over the course of twenty six months,” Black continued. “Wouldn’t you agree that is quite a lot for a ship the crew of which is subject to a ban on fraternization?”

“I did not enforce this part of the regulations. If two consenting adults decided to engage in sexual relations, I saw no reason to punish them.”

He could see the triumphant grin in Black’s face. The asshole was sure he had him nailed. Sure he would soon yell at him again.

“Do you not think those regulations exist for a reason?” Black asked calmly before starting to scream again. “Look at your crew! You came limping home with a ship full of mutinous hooligans!”

“I beg your pardon, _Mr. Goebbels,_ ” Jon replied calmly and he could see that that Maxwell was indicating to him to cut it off. But he had enough of being shouted at by this asshole on his personal vendetta, and there were still a few Nazis left he could compare him to. “We came home because you sent out a ship full of young people, expecting them to live like monks and nuns while you go home every night to mount the ol’ lady. Not to mention that without any space stations for support we had to stop at an Andorian outpost begging for food.”

He knew he was done for good. His conduct had been anything but professional, but he simply couldn’t relate to that man who had slung so much mud at his late father’s legacy. It that meant he would never command a ship again, so be it. But yet again help came from an unexpected source.

“If I may interrupt you captain,” Soval stepped in swiftly before the furious Black could nail him for his impropriety. “While your displeasure is not entirely unwarranted, I believe the exchange of insults will not serve the purpose of this debriefing.”

_What? Did the cranky old Vulcan just say he agrees with me?_

“Admiral, if you review the transcripts of our consultations before the launch of your vessel, you shall find that the ban on fraternization exists solely due to your insistence. The Vulcan science directorate had provided several studies on the detrimental effects of long-term sexual deprivation on both physical and mental health of humans. It was you, who ignored these studies. I see no reason to condemn Captain Archer for his decision not to enforce these clearly illogical regulations.”

 _What the hell just happened?_ John thought as loud applause acknowledged Soval’s statement. Only now he remembered that the room was full of people. He had barely noticed anyone so far. By the look of things Soval wasn’t done yet.

“While Captain Archer’s decision to allow the consummation of alcoholic beverages might be seen critically, it was most obviously a reaction to the catastrophic supply situation on the ship and it helped to uphold what little crew morale was left. Even though Vulcans do not normally inebriate themselves and can therefore not speak with experience, I submit that twenty cases of misbehavior among a crew of eighty-five individuals over the course of two months are hardly a cause for concern. I have seen more such incidents on the streets of San Francisco in a single evening.”

_Oh my god, I can’t believe this. Of all the people, Soval is going to bat for me!_

“I believe the debriefing should be interrupted for a short recess,” the UE government type interrupted. It was the first sign he’d given that he wasn’t a cardboard cut-out.

=/\=

“Do you have everything?” Hoshi asked, tears running down her face. As much as she liked the idea of getting bigger boobs, had she known how painful it was to get the tissue to seed the grafting she might have decided to live with the small bumps on her chest that had been a source of displeasure ever since puberty.

“I have everything,” the doctor acknowledged, putting a plaster on her right breast where he had stuck in that damn huge needle.  “May I say that you braved the obvious discomfort with more dignity than your ‘better half’? I believe that’s the term you humans use.”

=/\=

Jon was still fuming, but his mood lightened up somewhat when the three chairs were occupied again and Black wasn’t in one of them. Admiral Matsura from Security was sitting in the center chair now.

“I believe we all saw that my colleague wasn’t quite subjective enough to conduct this debriefing,” the Japanese began and fixed him with a firm glance. “I apologize for the misconduct of Admiral Black, captain, but I would also like to point out that I won’t be best pleased about being likened to persons of questionable historic importance.”

“You chose not to yell at me. It’s a start, sir.”

His statement was met with general amusement among the audience, but Matsura silenced the chuckles with his gavel. Jon knew he had gotten away with much more than he could have hoped for, so he straightened himself.

“Captain, your logs make it pretty clear that your ship has been in a bad state during the last two months. Some of the terms you used to describe the food were, let’s say, less than complimentary. Why has such a critical situation not been brought to Starfleet’s attention?”

“It has been, sir,” Jon answered, slightly confused by the strange question. “I wrote at least three communiqués alerting Admiral Black of our supply situation. But if Starfleet’s systems have developed a problem, I believe my communications officer would gladly help with the investigation.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary; just forward the pertaining log entries from _Enterprise_ ’s computer to Starfleet security. I believe we might need them for entirely unforeseen purposes.”

Following the Admiral’s hand signal two burly security types left the room. It looked as if someone wouldn’t be home for dinner in time. His compassion was ‘strangely limited’.

“Captain, obviously there are some things we need to change. Can I have your suggestions to make sure that future operations will be a little less rocky?”

“First of all we need a presence out there,” Jon explained. “We can’t come back here every time the bacon runs out. My chief engineer has submitted a concept for constructing temporary stations out of mothballed Marconi and Saturn class ships until permanent stations can be built. If we build those near M class planets, those stations could keep stock of provisions for passing ships.”

The admiral nodded.

“We are currently in negotiations with several races about building stations in their space. One planet called… Krios Prime was quite accommodating. I believe we have your chief engineer to thank for that.”

“I would prefer if that wouldn’t become a matter of discussion?”

“Of course, captain,” the admiral replied with a fatherly smile. Someone had read the reports in full detail.

“I think the no-frats serve a good purpose here on Earth,” Jon continued. “But that simply doesn’t work with a crew that’s out there for years. Starfleet usually separates people if they decide to start a relationship. I’d say, let them stay together and give ‘em to me. I know there’s the risk of the odd break-up here and there, but that happened anyway on my ship. We’ll manage.”

“That would mean there would be substantial changes to the crew,” the admiral reminded him.

Jon held up a PADD. “This contains fifty-four transfer requests. Pretty much all of my non-coms are running away screaming. There will be substantial changes anyway. The officers have found a workable solution, that’s as much as I’m going to say about it, but the non-coms have gone through hell and back, especially with the ridiculous gender imbalance.”

“We will discuss your suggestions, captain. Please continue to be available for further questioning.”

With that the Admiral concluded the debriefing and Jon was still none the wiser what role the UE gov type had played.

People were already leaving and even the few media types seemed to know that this was not the best moment to harass him about an interview. He had been worried about the details of the Maateria mission, but Matsura was also in charge of public relations and each and every of those journalist would get a stark reminder by the evening. They wouldn’t get an accreditation for as much as a local yard sale if certain things would make it into their articles.

With Black apparently being thrown under the bus the vultures had enough to work with anyway.

=/\=

“Jesus, T’Pol what happened?” Trip asked. T’Pol was standing in his quarters, her hair was ruffled, the catsuit  zipped open. She was blinking in a vain attempt to focus on his face.

Wherever she had come from it couldn’t have been far as she was barely able to stay on her feet, leaning heavily on him as he helped her towards the bed. His best guess was that she’d been in Hoshi’s quarters, which was thankfully just four doors down the corridor, so the chances were good that nobody had seen the hopelessly drunk Vulcan stagger around the ship. Most of the crew was on the planet anyway.

“Hoshi …and I …we were drinking shshampaign,” she replied, barely understandable, as he helped her out of her catsuit. “Ssssen we engashed in shexual relations.”

“Well, so much is obvious, darlin’” he said seeing that she was completely naked underneath. Her underwear was obviously still in Hoshi’s quarters. At least, despite being wasted out of their skulls, they couldn’t have done anything that would get T’Pol in trouble. The only strap-on on the ship was in C47 and the room was locked with Malcolm’s master-override code to avoid any awkward situations should the top brass show up for a surprise inspection.

He gently pushed her down on the bed and covered her naked form with the blanket. It didn’t take long for her to pass out.

=/\=

Just as he stepped out of his quarters he could see that Malcolm was coming out of Hoshi’s place. He walked towards his friend, who looked a bit pale around the nose.

“Hoshi okay?” he asked.

“Well as far as you can call that ‘okay’,” Malcolm said and made a hand gesture to indicate him to follow. “I think she puked out everything she’s eaten since early childhood before she passed out.”

“T’Pol can normally drink like an elephant,” Trip said, walking alongside his friend to wherever he had in mind. At a guess he would say they were en-route to the mess hall.

“Well from what I’ve seen, she did just that,” Malcolm snorted sarcastically. “They emptied four large bottles and Hoshi is plastered after one, so there are no points for guessing where the other three bottles went.”

“That’s not like them,” Trip mused. “I mean, yeah, Hoshi has a problem occasionally with knowing when to stop, but I’ve never seen T’Pol more than mildly buzzed.”

“That’s why I’m inviting you to a beer. We need to talk about this.”

=/\=

When they entered, the mess hall was of course deserted. Except for most of the officers who were kept aboard for debriefings over the next few days the crew had left the ship and the few remaining people aboard were supplied with warm meals from the surface by three daily supply shuttles.

He watched Malcolm enter the override code and walk straight into Chef’s realm. The ship’s security officer was probably the only one who could afford to do that without having to fear waking up with a butcher’s knife in his back the next morning. Chef was very particular about access to his kitchen.

He took a bottle from Malcolm, when the Brit sat down across from him.

“I’ve spoken with the other people from the group,” Malcolm explained. “We’ll suspend any meetings in C47 for the time being, most likely for good.”

“It was bound to happen, wasn’t it?” he asked, suspecting what the reasons could be.

Malcolm nodded. “The New Year’s Eve party back-fired; Rostov and Anna nearly broke up over her decision to have you finish her off after the rear-end bingo. And although he’s hidden it quite well, Taylor wasn’t quite happy with how much Liz was interested in Travis that night.”

“I don’t understand. It was hardly the first time?” Trip wondered.

“You can’t override our most basic instincts,” Malcolm said. “Look you and I are a bit older than the others and I tend to think we’re best friends. I know I can trust you if Hoshi wants to live out a fantasy and you know I would never come in between you and T’Pol, even if she wants to have a go with me or Hoshi. But it’s not so easy for the younger guys like Taylor or Rostov.”

“You singled out me and Travis,” Trip said, furrowing his brows. “Don’t tell me they’ve got penis envy.”

“It’s hardly exclusive to the men,” Malcolm evaded a straight answer. “I know Hoshi has always hated her small boobs, but do you really think that her feeling inferior to T’Pol and Anna has nothing to do with it?”

“Well, that would explain why T’Pol wasted herself,” Trip said. “She probably spent the evening feeling guilty about making Hoshi feel bad about herself, even if it’s complete bollocks.”

Malcolm nodded.

“As things stand now, I would say the four of us – you, T’Pol, Hoshi and I are the only ones who are old enough to deal with such a lifestyle and have the necessary faith and trust in our partners. And we don’t need C47 for that.”   

Their talk was interrupted by the appearance of the Captain. Trip waved him over and he took a seat at the table.

“Do you want me to leave?” Malcolm asked as he offered a beer to the captain, but Trip could see him indicate the Brit to remain seated.

“So how did it work out down there?” Trip asked.

“Black has been taken into custody,” Jon said with a not at all sympathetic grin. “I couldn’t raise Hoshi, but I’ll ask her in the morning to transfer our logs to Starfleet Security. That’ll be enough to nail him for sabotage.”

Trip looked over at Malcolm and could see that the Brit was nearly bursting with mirth, too.

“Um, sir, I believe Commander Tucker should have the necessary clearances to initiate the upload. I’m afraid you won’t have much luck raising Hoshi until, perhaps, lunch-time.”

“What has she done?” Jon asked with a mild-mannered smile.

“Just an unfortunate incident involving Champaign, sir,” Malcolm replied drily.

“Et tu, brute?” the Captain asked theatrically. “Don’t tell me that… ‘incident’… has to do with why T’Pol is incommunicado as well.”

“There might have been a Vulcan casualty as well, sir.”

To Trip’s surprise the captain started laughing about Malcolm’s dean-pan reply. “And I missed it, dammit!”

It was good to see Jon lightening up. The last weeks had taken a toll on his friend.

“Trip, if I remember correctly Anna Hess and Misha Rostov are still on the ship?” the captain asked once the guffaw was over. The Engineer nodded.

“How quickly can you convert C47 to something that doesn’t look like a brothel?  Admiral Matsura is coming for an inspection in two days time.”

“Funny you would mention that,” Trip said. “We had just spoken about abandoning its current use. I think we can make it into an officer’s club within a day. “

“Problems?” the captain asked in reference to the demise of the mythical C47 meetings.

“Nothing that we can’t handle among ourselves,” Trip answered and Jon left it at that.

=/\=

He was resting on his back, holding T’Pol in his arms as she lay on top of him. Her sleep had been restless to say the least and the soft groaning was fair sign that she was in pain. He reached over to grab the hypospray he had procured from Phlox on his way back from the talk with Malcolm and Jon last night.

Once he had injected it into her neck the groans subsided and she looked into his face, her eyes bloodshot.

“Forgive me beloved,” she said in a weak voice.

He hugged her close. “Don’t worry darlin’. We all need to let off some steam once in a while. Just let me and Malcolm know the next time you wanna drink something, okay? You staggered through the ship with no underwear and your suit zipped open.”

 Her head shot up, the face flushed green in shame.

“It was only the few meters from Hoshi’s place back here and everything was still covered up, sort of. I don’t think anybody saw you.”

“Thank you,” she muttered and soon the sedative started to kick in. What she needed were a few hours uninterrupted sleep, so he disentangled himself and tucked the Vulcan back in. She was sleeping soundly by the time he was finished.

=/\=

“Bloody hell, Hoshi’s looking like death warmed over,” Malcolm said as they disassembled the love swing.

“Not really a surprise is it?” Trip chuckled. “But at least they’ve got it out of their system for a while.”

“What are we going do with it?” Malcolm said, pointing at the partly collapsed contraption.

“We put it in storage,” Trip replied nonchalantly. “I made it reusable for a purpose. T’Pol loves it, even if she’d rather die than admit it and I seem to remember that you are quite fond of it yourself.”

“I’d prefer you don’t talk about that publicly,” Malcolm muttered under his breath.

Trip fixed him with a grin and whispered back. “Malcolm, the only people you are likely to meet here are people, who have actually _seen_ me gold-plating your rear-end.”

“Except for the Captain who just happens to come in here, and worse still, he has his girlfriend with him!” the Brit hissed under his breath.

“Impressive Trip,” Jon said with a mischievous grin, unaware of their covert conversation. “You’ve really changed this place a lot in just a few hours.”

Thankfully the last – and largest – reminder of what this place had once been used for was lying as an unidentifiable pile of parts on the floor. To any outsider it would look like a room for casual meetings, a little bit like a bar, emphasized by the little counter and the shelves with many different glasses on it.

“You here to heckle us or tryin’ to help?” Trip replied putting the parts into a crate before the Akaali woman could inquire about their importance.

“Seeing that I have nothing better to do,” the Captain answered.

“You could help Misha with the tables,” Trip instructed and Jon dutifully walked off, which left a slightly awkward silence as Rianne was left standing alone.

“This room could use a few plants,” she broke the silence. “I will get some from hydroponics bay.”

There was no doubt that the alien had a very sharp mind. She had acquired quite a good grasp of their language in mere weeks, no doubt benefitting from Hoshi’s instructions. Her accent that was similar to that of Russians sounded actually quite cute.

“There’s a push-cart just outside the door, ma’am,” he offered. “You can use that. Saves you a lot of walking.”

“Thank you Commander.”

Trip smiled when he saw Jon almost tripping over himself in his attempt to divide his attention between the job at hand and watching the woman walk out.

=/\=

“You really okay?” he asked.

“I’m more than ‘okay’ beloved. I need you,” T’Pol pleaded, her breath labored from what he had called ‘soaping her up’. While he had in fact done that, the rinsing part had of course escalated to a full-fledged groping session. There was no way to have this incredibly beautiful Vulcan with him in the shower and keep his hands off her.

The Vulcan was standing in front of him, steadying herself against the wall. Trip hugged her from behind as he gently inserted himself in her rear. A satisfied groan signaled her approval for his decision. Considering that despite several hours of uninterrupted sleep she was still fairly shaky on her feet he held her tight, massaging her breasts for added stimulation.

“Make love to me beloved,” she demanded breathlessly and he smiled at her choice of words. Pinching her rock-hard nipples gently between his fingers he continued thrusting into her gently and steadily, just how her Vulcan mind would like it best.

=/\=

He toweled T’Pol dry after a very long shower that only shortly had been spent cleaning each other.

“Have you had time to talk to Phlox about this wrecked vision thing every time you cum?” he asked her.

“I did. He says it is a somewhat rare but not unusual predicament among Vulcan females. As long as my vision recovers within two hours he sees no need for concern and it could be restored instantly by medical means if needed. I do merely need to factor it into my decisions when to engage in intimate relations.”

“Not sure you factored much in last night,” he said with a chuckle as he guided the slightly disorientated Vulcan out of the bathroom.

“Indeed,” she agreed.

“Wait here,” he said, putting his hand on her chest to signal her to stop. “I’ll get your robe.”

“I would prefer if you just raised the room temperature and lowered the window blinds should you have opened them; unless, of course you, have grown tired of appreciating my unclothed physique.”

“How could I ever grow tired of that view, darlin’?”

He raised the controls slowly making it possible for her keen hearing to pick up the clicks as the pre-defined temperature was increased. Once done he returned to her, stole a kiss before guiding her to the bed so they could sit down on it.

“Has Lieutenant Reed spoken to you?” T’Pol asked.

“He did. In fact C47 doesn’t exist anymore. It’s the ship’s officer’s club now. We worked all day on it.”

“Will you miss the meetings?”

“Not much,” he admitted. “Now that Malcolm has pointed it out it has become somewhat obvious that some of the group started havin’ trouble with it. It’s a nice little theory bein’ able to switch partners and strictly separating between having sex for fun and makin’ love to your significant other.”

He could see her understanding nod.

“Malcolm and I have been around the block a few times and we have every confidence in our partners, but the others are too young and way too insecure. What about you? You’ll have to make do with good ol’ me more often.”

“I believe I have satisfied what interest I had in experimenting with human sexuality,” she confirmed. “And I would gladly ‘make do’ with you every time.”

He smiled at her amusingly raised eyebrow.

“We’ll have to wait how Hoshi’s surgery works out,” he said. “If that helps her get over her silly inferiority complex, I think the status quo could stay between the four of us.”

“You would miss having sexual relations with Hoshi,” she replied, but the ‘accusation’ was more a tease than a reproach.

“As would you,” he teased her back, causing a cute little blush on her face. “I’d be lying if I said it isn’t fun havin’ sex with Hoshi, but that’s what it is – fun. I wouldn’t like her less if we never did that again. And actually I’m thinking more about Malcolm here. He loves havin’ a go at it with another guy once in a while and I have fun helpin’ him with that. But as much as he likes it, he’s terribly afraid of admitting it. What if he happened upon a partner who can’t keep his mouth shut about it.”

“Indeed.”

=/\=

“I’ll have to thank Trip for wrecking your bunk,” Malcolm quipped. “This bed is really comfy.”

“A bullet to my head would be comfier right now,” Hoshi groaned as she rested in his arms. “This must be the longest hangover of my life.”

“I don’t know how much bottles you had squirreled away,“ he said in amusement. “But I would hazard a guess the two of you went through your entire stash last night.”

“Thanks for cleaning the mess I made, sweetie.”

Her voice still sounded miserable, which was quite an ‘achievement’ considering it was now 2200 the next day.

“You’re not upset?” she asked, looking at his face.

“Why would I, love? Have you already forgotten how T’Pol and you had to drag Trip and me home after the beer piss-up in Engineering? I’d say fair is fair. And at least Trip got a glorious view out of it. According to him T’Pol staggered home with her uniform hanging open and her underwear was still in here.”

Hoshi shared his amusement but immediately grabbed her head.

“Don’t make me laugh sweetie, it hurts,” she complained.

=/\=

“Admiral, Commander Tucker reporting as ordered.”

“Have seat, Trip,” Maxwell said and pointed at the chair.

“Normally this would be a debriefing with three people, but after the fallout about Black I had a bit of leeway, so this will be between us. I want to know what that weird mission to Maateria was all about. And you don’t need to sugar coat it, if you feel like dropping an f-bomb feel free. We’ve know each other long enough.”

“Does this really not leave the room?” Trip asked suspiciously.

“You have my word. Your coms officer has done a monstrous number on the encryption, but at least someone from the top brass has to know. Your exploits with that Princess of Krios Prime have thrown us enough. We need to know we’ll not be left in a lurch again.”

Trip looked up, feeling that his face was burning with a massive blush.

“What happened with the Kriosians?” he asked. “It’s already the second time I’ve had that one thrown at me without knowing what really happened.”

“Well, Jon’s reports on the matter were ‘vague’ to say the least,” the Admiral said and Trip could see he was fighting a shit-eating grin. “From what I gathered, you and the heir to the throne were found in a swamp and you weren’t exactly wearing winter clothes at the time. When communiqués started coming in that Starfleet would be granted just about any request we could think of, under the condition that the ‘indomitable Commander Tucker’ would lead the official delegation at her coronation ceremony, I put one and one together.”

Trip sighed. “Yeah, well, it was an impulse. And it’s not like I started it. What would you do when some gorgeous woman is suddenly all over yourself?”

“I’d probably fuck her brains out and several months later I’d lead the official delegation at her coronation ceremony, which is in ten weeks by the way.”

Following Forests blunt reply, Trip looked up, slack-jawed.

“Trip, I’ve seen pictures of that woman. You’d have to dead to refuse an offer like that, especially if she was coming on to you as you say. And that’s not even counting that you guys had been out there for over a year at that time. Not everyone around here is as bigoted as Hieram Black.

“Well, I messed it up, so count me in Admiral. I’ll lead that delegation.”

“Good boy,” his superior officer answered and scribbled something down on a PADD. “Now about Maateria. From the little I could find, it looks as if you have scored another alien head of state.”

Trip was wondering at which temperature human skin would spontaneously combust. His face was certainly feeling like being close to that temperature right now.

“Yeah; their weird-ass traditions meant I had to do the matriarch and I did. It’s not like we had much choice.”

“Well, you will be relieved that the Maaterian’s have offered to trade dilithium without certain ‘traditions’ being observed. For all their nymphomaniac nature they have obviously realized that they had asked quite a lot. “

“That’s putting it mildly,” Trip agreed.

“This last question does not need to be answered,” Maxwell said. “It’s extremely personal, but believe it or not, Soval is a good friend and this knowledge could become important.”

Trip nodded.

“Was Subcommander T’Pol part of that mining group and did that group really have sex with each other to satisfy their customs?”

“She was no longer a Subcommander. Jon had given her a field commission to Commander the week before. But to answer your question; yes, she was down on the planet with us,” Trip said, looking up defiantly. “The group was comprised of five men, each kept on a leash by a female officer. In fact it was I T’Pol had sex with, but you can tell the Ambassador that T’Pol told me of that ass-backward virginity scan she might be subjected to back on Vulcan and she’ll pass it. I leave it to you to put one and one together and come up with something other than eleven.”

This time it was the Admiral whose jaw hit the deck.


End file.
